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As he often does, Peter B. Parker of Earth-616 appears unannounced and unwanted.
Miguel is busy analyzing his model of the Arachno-Human Poly-Multiverse, crimson eyes tracing the movements of glowing amber lines and the glints, like drops of dew, of canon events - but this Peter interrupts his vitally important work, as he often does, with seemingly no care for it. And this time he brought a pizza.
And Miguel's traitorous senses tell him it does smell pretty good.
He presses the button to allow his platform to slowly make its way down to where Peter is standing.
"Hey, Oscar the Grouch," Peter calls into Miguel's spider-cave. His gaze tracks the glacial pace of the platform, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "Figured you'd be hungry, what with the workload."
Workload, of course, referring to the havoc that that stupid kid and the wizard calling himself "Doctor Strange" had wreaked on the multiverse. Miguel had had to assign some of his most hardened agents to make sure Octavius, Osborn, Connors, and all the rest met their destined fates, regardless if they had been "cured" in another timeline - but the little nerd didn't need to know that. Let him think he "solved" their root problems and went on to have their happy endings. Miguel was still busy cleaning up after the literal holes in reality the kid had ended up tearing.
"Pizza," Miguel growls.
"All Spider-people love pizza," Peter says, as if stating a fact. "This shit's from the, uh. Forgot the number, but it's that 'insomniac' dimension. That Eddie guy can make a mean pizza, I'm telling you."
Miguel's platform finally halts at the bottom, and Peter flashes him a sharp grin as he opens the box. A slice is already missing, and Peter takes it upon himself to take another one before Miguel can reach it. He hands the entire box over to Miguel as he starts walking up the walls, munching on the pizza.
Miguel bites into a slice, and immediately realizes how hungry he is as the flavor explodes in his mouth. He finishes the slice rather quickly - Peter was right, this is a great pizza - and goes for a second.
"Why are you here?" Miguel asks, when his mouth is no longer full.
"Uh, pizza?" Peter retorts from his spot on the ceiling.
"No, why… do you keep coming to talk to me? I can get my own food, you know. And I'm busy."
Peter snorts. He unsticks from the ceiling, first releasing his feet, then hanging by one hand to right himself as he drops to the floor and walks over to Miguel.
"You need company," he says simply. "Everyone does, even if you're a sourpuss who beefs with kids." Miguel opens his mouth to argue, but Peter raises his hands placatingly and continues, "Yeah, yeah, the kid fucked up. Badly. But you did still get really pissed at the kid specifically, and not his terrible mentor, or that Strange prick. As much."
Miguel takes another bite of pizza in lieu of a response.
"You're not like other Spider-people," Peter notes. "No spider-sense, no sticky hands, those big meaty claws."
"What about it?" Miguel bristles.
"I'm just sayin', I know you don't want to tell me the reason why you're like that. But you don't have to… hide up in here all the time. We're still your people."
Peter then, cautiously, claps a hand on Miguel's shoulder. Perhaps Peter expected Miguel to be angry, or at least shake him off, much like his first bite of the pizza, he suddenly finds himself desperate for more of the touch. He leans towards Peter, and the man takes the cue to move forward and fully wrap Miguel in his arms. Miguel's gloves are greasy from the pizza, and he slowly slides them off to grip Peter's back without getting his ratty coat dirtier than it already was. Peter doesn't smell great, the scent of the city clinging to his clothes, but he's warm, and Miguel realizes he doesn't want to let go.
"Aww, you're a big softy after all." Miguel can feel Peter's voice rumbling through his body, and attempts to lean impossibly further into the sensation.
"Shut up," Miguel grumbles, but there's no venom to his words.
He's nearly melting into Peter when the other spider carefully lifts Miguel into his arms. He finds himself latching on to his body, like a baby spider to its mother, and also finds that he doesn't particularly care about being transported against his will.
"Where are we going?" he mumbles.
"Just in that chair," Peter replies softly. "Figured if we're gonna snuggle, it's a better place than just standing around."
The chair is quite big, but it's still a bit awkward for the two of them to settle in. Peter ends up sitting in the chair, and Miguel, much wider than the other, is mostly on top of him. He leans onto Peter's neck, into the heat of his body - radioactive, like the vast majority of the spiders - and he feels content to just stay.
But he doesn't object when the spindly fingers of Peter's hand find their way to Miguel's jaw, and tip his head up, meeting his eyes. Miguel doesn't miss the way Peter glances downwards, but still feels a jolt of shock at the words that come out of his mouth.
"Can I kiss you?"
Miguel feels a twist in his gut. He's suddenly aware of his own self-hatred, feeling as a wretched creature undeserving of love, and cannot reconcile himself with whatever Peter is seeing in front of him - but he wants it, desperately. And Peter is offering it to him now. Another thought, however, worms its way to the front of the maelstrom of thoughts that is his mind, and it's this thought that he ends up voicing:
"Aren't you married?"
Peter eyes him carefully, but it's only a short moment's hesitation before he smirks and responds, "You know, she does have another girl. We don't do the whole 'strict monogamy' thing. We talked about it, man, it's okay."
That isn't the answer Miguel was expecting, but he feels the slow unlocking of the walls around his heart, the key aimed perfectly through his ribs, so he numbly responds, "Okay."
"To kiss you?"
"Yeah."
When Peter's lips meet Miguel's, they're still pulled up at the edges in a soft smile. Peter's gentle, even as he nips Miguel's lip with blunt fangs, and still careful as Miguel lets him into his mouth, and lets the other explore him in turn. He tastes like pizza, and Miguel thinks he can feel a bit of cheese stuck to his teeth, but somehow he finds that he doesn't really care.
Peter's tongue experimentally pokes the gums above Miguel's blunt canines, where his own fangs would come out, and Miguel pulls away to murmur to him.
"They're retractable. They're sharper than yours, venomous."
"I can handle it."
"Are you sure?"
"Hey, it's not like I've no experience with venom." Peter rubs at his wrists. "I have these… stingers, anyway. I'm resistant."
"...Stingers?" Out of all the Peter Parkers in the multiverse, Miguel had never heard of 'stingers' as being among his abilities.
"I don't use 'em, but… you can ask later if you want." Peter leans in again. "So…"
"Yes," Miguel breathes, and this time he allows his fangs to unsheathe. Their teeth brush, fang to fang, and Peter lets out an amused hum as they exchange playful bites. And after a couple minutes, or however long it took, they part again.
Peter's deep brown eyes and subtle smile are soft, and Miguel must find it to be infectious, because Peter gasps a little and gives him that stupid smirking grin. "Are you actually smiling?"
And Miguel realizes that yes, he is. It's easy in the here and now, he thinks. Now, when he's feeling a warm, contented buzz, and his eyes ache, begging to be closed.
"You needed a break, sleepyhead," Peter assures him. "Come cuddle some more."
Perhaps if he were more awake, and not practically drunk off of the feeling of intimacy, Miguel would have objected and said he needed to get back to work - but Peter's arms are inviting, and his body is starving for their embrace - so Miguel obliges. He lays back down and relaxes into Peter as he did before.
"Look at us. Two… old, primate-shaped spiders. Heh heh."
He's lulled to sleep, eventually, to the loud vibrations that he thinks might be coming from both him and Peter.
He forgets the question he had while half-asleep as to why the hell that would be happening.